


Waves and arrows

by veefromthesun



Category: Hannibal (TV), King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nine's voice: just this once everybody lives, Soul Mates AU, TristhadFest, alternative ending, battles, our favourite idiots in love are idiots even in Arthur's era, sort of, there is some violence because well battles, tristhad - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 03:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10778724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veefromthesun/pseuds/veefromthesun
Summary: Galahad is ready to leave behind Arthur's madness, but he can't leave behind Tristan, too. Not when his constant nightmares keep reminding him that he's more than a fellow warrior. And not when Tristan explicitly asks him to stay.A happy ending King Arthur AU/Hannigram soul mates AU written for the #TristhadFest





	Waves and arrows

**Author's Note:**

> For the #TristhadFest I finally dediced to write the happy ending King Arthur AU that I had wanted to write in a long time. There are some hannigram references: I imagined this as a soul mates AU. It's one chapter, almost 6k words. My first language is not English and this story wasn't beta'ed so I apologize for any mistakes. Let me know what you think about this story if you want to! x

Tristan woke up when he heard an unusual noise coming from his left. He opened his eyes. In the pale light of the first quarter moon he saw the familiar shape of Galahad. His companion was awake, and he was packing his things.  
-Where are you going?-  
Galahad quickly turned to face Tristan, a dagger in his hand. He dropped his defence when he realized that Tristan meant no harm.  
-I’m leaving. I’m tired of this shit. I don’t want to die for a liar.-  
Tristan didn’t answer. He got up, and observed Galahad for a few seconds.  
-Alright.-  
-What?-  
Tristan started packing his things, too. Galahad started at him.  
-What are _you_ doing now?- whispered Galahad.  
-I’m coming with you.-  
-I won’t let you desert.-  
-Then why would I let you do the same?-  
-It’s different.-  
Tristan got closer to the other warrior and placed a hand on his arm.  
-I swore that I would follow you anywhere, Galahad. If you won’t let me desert, then don’t let me break that promise either.-  
The younger warrior looked for Tristan’s eyes, hidden behind his hair. Those words sedated the anger in his heart.  
-You were drunk, that night. When you made that promise. I… I didn’t think you’d remember.-  
-Well, I do. So, we either leave, right now, or we wait until our quest comes to an end.-  
Galahad looked at his feet.  
-What if this quest never ends? What if we waste our lives following the orders of a man who is blinded by pride? What… what if I die before the end of the quest?-  
Tristan’s hand was now on the other man’s shoulder. He squeezed it a bit.  
-These are the orders. It is our duty to follow the orders even if it will cost our life. But you are so young and strong. And you’re a great warrior. You should have more confidence in your abilities.-  
Galahad nodded. Tristan smiled and patted Galahad’s shoulder, then he turned to go back to sleep. The younger man mirrored his movements.  
-Tristan?- he asked, a few minutes later, incapable of falling asleep.  
-Yes?-  
-If… if I were to die before the end of the quest, please don’t forget about me.-

Galahad shivered when Tristan’s answer didn’t arrive immediately. For a second, he got scared he had revealed too much, but then Tristan’s voice soothed him.  
-I could never forget you, Galahad. And I hope that you will do the same for me.-  
-I will- said Galahad. He hoped Tristan didn’t notice that his voice was shaking.  
-Try to rest now. We’ll have to ride a lot tomorrow.-

They always rode side by side. Tristan was sent ahead on patrol, sometimes, and Galahad was glad to follow him when he could. At night, when the group decided to mount their tents, Galahad and Tristan shared one. Otherwise, they’d lie their bearskins near the fire, taking turns to watch it. But Galahad rarely fell asleep if Tristan was up to watch the fire, so he’d sit next to him and they spoke all night, softly, so that they wouldn’t wake the rest of the group.

They trained together. Tristan gave Galahad some tips about archery, and watched as the young warrior improved his technique and revealed his potential. They didn’t forget their swords, though. They spent hours duelling. Muscles ached every night but none of them would ever decide to abandon their training.

-Watch your legs, Galahad.-  
-I am watching my legs.-  
Tristan made Galahad fall on his back with one confident attack. The younger man lied there for a second, still surprised because he couldn’t see the attack coming.  
-How did you do that?-  
-I didn’t do anything. You didn’t watch your legs. Balance is important.-  
Tristan offered him a hand. A quiet apology and an offer of peace. Galahad accepted it.  
-Show me- asked Galahad, as Tristan was coming back to his position.  
-What?-  
-The legs. What I should do with them.-  
Tristan considered the request for a second, then he dropped his sword and got closer to Galahad.  
-Bend the knees. Feel the support from your feet. No, wait. Open them a bit, otherwise you’ll fall again. Your right leg should come forward, do you see?-  
-This is not what my teacher taught me.-  
-Do you want to do as your old teacher taught you, decades after his last battle, probably drunk from wine and food and comfort, or do you want to live?-  
Galahad frowned. -My teacher wasn’t… Alright. He was. I get it.-  
-No, you still don’t get- said Tristan. He checked Galahad’s legs and shook his head.  
-Wait.-  
He kneeled in front of Galahad and he took his right leg by the calf and moved it forward. Galahad struggled to keep the balance, shocked by the movement and the contact.  
Tristan stood up and moved around Galahad. For a second he didn’t do anything, and Galahad thought that he was probably counting all the mistakes in his stance. Then Tristan put his hands on Galahad’s waist, tentatively.  
-This is why you fall. You should allow yourself a more comfortable stance. You’re stiff, and that makes you slow. Bend your knees and lower your waist. Create room.-  
He made his grip a bit firmer and showed Galahad the right direction. The warrior followed his movement; he bent his knees and finally realized what Tristan was talking about. He felt comfortable, ready to change position and attack, if necessary.  
Tristan let go of Galahad’s waist. His hands went to the other man’s arms instead.  
-You don’t defend yourself properly. Raise your arms a bit… no, not too much, or you’ll be exposed. Here, just like this. See how that feels.-  
Tristan’s voice came from behind Galahad’s left ear. Definitely too close.  
-And you’re stiff again, now. You’re using all your energy already and you’re just standing up.-  
-I’m… I’m sorry.-  
-Don’t be. You’re still learning. Try to relax and find your stance.-  
He let go of him and walked around him again. This time, Galahad did all his best to make no mistakes. Tristan smiled.  
-Alright. Let’s see if that works.-  
And he just attacked him. Galahad blinked and Tristan had already found his sword and now he was attacking. Galahad blocked it, moved to his right and attacked: he stopped his sword an inch from Tristan’s neck.  
-Impressive. Well done- said Tristan. His breath was short. He stood there for a few seconds, both of them unable to do anything else than staring at the other. Then Tristan moved Galahad’s sword away from his neck with his fingers, patted Galahad on his shoulder and went to drink some ale.

Galahad did not just imagine Tristan’s hands brushing softly against his skin before correcting his stance. He knew Tristan’s grip on his waist had been unsure for a few seconds. And he saw the look on his face when he’d been finally able to counterattack; his wide eyes, dropping to Galahad’s lips. He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t seeing things that didn’t exist. Or at least he was trying to convince himself.  
They had chosen to mount their tents, that night. Tristan was pretending to sleep. Galahad knew that because Tristan wasn’t snoring, and he always snored when he drank ale.  
He had drunk more than the usual, that night. Galahad wondered why. Was it the tension of knowing that the big battle was always closer? Or was it something else?  
-You’re thinking too loud, Galahad.-  
Galahad shivered.  
-What… how did you know I was awake?-  
-You’re too still. You do that when you’re thinking too much. What are you thinking about?-  
_How can Tristan always just know?_  
-What are _you_ thinking about, Tristan? Since I’m not the only one who’s awake.-  
-Did you know already?-  
-You weren’t snoring.-  
Tristan laughed. Then he stayed quiet.  
-I can’t tell you- he answered, a few minutes later.  
Galahad lifted himself a bit, putting his weight in his elbows.  
-We have always told each other everything. Did I betray your trust, somehow?-  
Tristan sighed. He sat on his bearskin.  
-No. Of course not. Do you really mean that you keep no secrets from me? Not even one?-  
Galahad swallowed. There _was_ something he couldn’t just tell Tristan. He couldn’t tell anybody. But surely that had nothing to do with Tristan’s secret.  
The look the older warrior gave him, though, rose doubts in his heart.  
-Sleep, Galahad. I’ll do my best to avoid snoring.-  
Galahad sank in his bearskin. Did Tristan know? Had he caught Galahad’s glances, or did he find something odd in his many offerings of accompanying him around, whether he had to get some wood, or hunt for the group? Was it bothering him?  
Galahad changed his position, unable to face Tristan. He didn’t want to bother him. He just wanted to be close. To be there for him. To be able to fight by his side, and make him proud. He didn’t ask for anything more than that. He knew there was nothing else to hope for. He was no fool.  
_But..._  
Galahad had always been good at understanding people. He was able to foresee their actions, because he knew what they were thinking. His father had been afraid of his abilities. That was one of the reasons why he’d sent him away to become a soldier. And that skill had helped more that he wanted to admit on the battlefield.  
And now Galahad was so confused, because his abilities were betraying him, with Tristan. He was seeing things that didn’t exist. He was feeling things that were just impossible. He wondered again if he was going mad, or ill, or if he had just trusted his abilities a bit too much.  
He fell asleep before he could realise. He dreamt of a deep sea that was swallowing him alive and Tristan was drowning next to him and... and next thing he knew, he was being shaken like a puppet.  
-What!? Are we being attacked?- he tried to ask, his mouth and brain still asleep.  
-No. You were having a nightmare- said Tristan.  
Galahad sank in his bearskin. He tried to catch his breath.  
-Shit.-  
-You were about to scream. You do that sometimes. We have to keep quiet in this territory. Sorry for waking you up.-  
-No, well, thank you. I appreciate it.-  
_Shit_. He was covered in sweat. He went to look for some dry clothes in his bag. He changed quietly. He could feel Tristan’s eyes on his back. Galahad went back to his bearskin, only to realise it was uncomfortably moist.  
-Let’s share mine- suggested Tristan. -It’s cold tonight.-  
Galahad considered the offering, then he accepted, grateful.  
-If I have another nightmare, you won’t be cold- said Galahad, laying next to Tristan.  
-You won’t have another nightmare. I’m here.-  
Galahad didn’t know what to answer to that.  
-What scares you so much, that it gives you nightmares?- asked Tristan.  
-Nothing. It’s just... I dream about the sea. There’s water everywhere.-  
-And nothing else?-  
Galahad turned to face him.  
-Why are you asking?-  
Tristan looked away.  
-I... I heard you say my name. In your sleep.-  
Galahad froze.  
-You were there, too- he tried.  
Tristan nodded.  
-So we were drowning.-  
-Yes.- _But there was more than that_. He wondered if Tristan could tell that he was hiding something.  
Tristan was hiding something too, surely. And maybe he was about to speak the truth. His eyes were wandering, looking for something on Galahad’s face. So he waited, but in the end Tristan chose to just close his eyes.  
-There is more than that- Galahad heard himself admit. He immediately regretted saying it. Tristan opened his eyes and looked at him, and he knew he was doomed.  
-And what is it?-  
-It... it feels like a memory. Something I forgot. Or something that will happen in the future. But it feels _real_.-  
Tristan looked at him, as if he knew there was more. Something far more important.  
_He doesn’t know,_ Galahad told himself. _He just could never imagine. There is no reason to worry._ Galahad kept his mouth shut and Tristan didn’t ask more questions.  
-Don’t think about that nightmare, Galahad. Try to sleep.-  
Galahad nodded. Unsure about what to do, he turned to face the fabric of the tent. He knew he couldn’t fall asleep with Tristan’s face so close that he could feel his breath. He would’ve thought of kissing those lips; of laying his head close to Tristan’s, and letting their foreheads touch just slightly. And he knew he couldn’t bear that.  
It was raining now. Galahad closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the sound of the rain against their tent, and not on the warmth of Tristan’s body... when the older warrior put his arm around him and held him close.  
Galahad held his breath.  
_I’m just... That’s obviously not what you think it is_ , he thought.  
He put his hand on Tristan’s, anyway. Tristan squeezed it and held him a bit tighter.  
Maybe he had to stop questioning every spontaneous gesture. Maybe he could just enjoy those moments together, while it lasted.  
_Just take the comfort he’s offering and don’t overthink it._  
It was easier said than done, but at least he could try.

Days passed. There were battles, traps, wounds, sore muscles; shared tents when the weather was too cold. Unspoken words and lingering gazes, especially when one of them was hurting, and the other one could do nothing but watch. There was hunger, sometimes, and thirst, too. And there was ale. Too much ale, especially now that they were having a free night. The big battle was about to come and that was the only way to keep the soldiers calm: let the ale flow freely.  
-Not again, Tristan. I can’t believe you beat me again.-  
-I’m good at darts. Get over it.-  
-But you’re drunk!-  
-So are you. The difference is that I can drink more than you, without feeling dizzy.-  
-Oh, stop it.-  
They had left the group, and they were going back to their rooms. Everyone else was still eating and drinking in the main hall. Galahad and Tristan, instead, had decided to call it a night.  
-I mean it. You forget things, too, when you’re drunk.-  
-I remember _everything_.-  
-Oh, yeah?-  
Tristan grabbed Galahad by his wrists and trapped him against a wall, all of a sudden. Galahad was only able to look at Tristan in the eyes. And his mouth.  
-Do you remember, when I promised I’d follow you everywhere?-  
Galahad nodded. He was still in shock.  
-When I swore I’d protect you with my life?- Tristan asked, again.  
-I remember- whispered Galahad.  
-And do you remember _why_ I made that promise, too?-  
The younger warrior shook his head.  
-You never told me.-  
-I told you. You just don’t remember.-  
Tristan got a bit closer.  
-I told you that I couldn’t imagine living in this world without you by my side.-  
Galahad’s mouth was dry. He remembered. He had never forgotten.  
-I thought... I...-  
-What? That I meant something else? Or that I was too drunk to understand what I was saying? I meant every single world.-  
He let go of Galahad’s wrists, just to intertwine their fingers.  
-Do you not remember that I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you? And when I challenged you at daggers, that night, just to impress you? All those times when I accepted any excuse, just to have you close. Did you not notice, Galahad? Ever?-  
Galahad was having a difficult time focusing, to be honest.  
-I thought I was going insane.-  
Tristan laughed.  
- _You_ are driving me insane.-  
None of them knew who started it. They just kissed. Tristan pushed his body against Galahad’s, soothed by each other’s warmness, dying to be allowed to do more. Galahad run his fingers through Tristan’s hair and pulled him closer. He couldn’t believe it was happening. He couldn’t believe Tristan reciprocated those feelings that had scared Galahad so much. Tristan placed his hands on Galahad’s waist; one travelled towards his legs. The younger warrior couldn’t help but moan, and Tristan used that weakness to deepen their kiss. Galahad was suddenly breathless, overwhelmed by the sensation of having Tristan finally so close. And yet terrified of the consequences.  
-Wait... this is... they’ll say it’s wrong- tried Galahad, but he just wanted to kiss Tristan one more time.  
-Was it wrong for Achilles and Patroclus? The whole Greece followed them, and they died like heroes.-  
-Don’t say that. Please.-  
Tristan looked at Galahad in the eyes. The younger archer shivered under his gaze; it felt so intimate that he felt naked, and he wondered how that could’ve been possible. He also wondered how the hell he would’ve survived if something bad happened to Tristan. That fear had always been there, in the back of his mind, pointing at all the risky positions Tristan put himself when he was in battle. More that once he’d found himself unconsciously controlling him, as if he were his bird of prey. Flying over him and protecting him, and shooting arrows to anyone who was able to harm him. He knew that the older warrior had noticed. He’d recognized gratitude in his glances.  
Tristan closed his eyes and nodded; he rested his forehead on Galahad’s.  
-I need to tell you something...- he started saying, just to be interrupted by someone shouting in the corridors.  
-Tristan!-  
That was Arthur’s voice, echoing from the distance, thanks to the stone in which that fort was built. Galahad froze, even if he knew Arthur wasn’t there yet, and couldn’t see them. Tristan let go of him slowly. He heard the familiar sound of Arthur’s steps on the floor.  
-There you are, Tristan. I was looking for you.-  
-Arthur, what is it?-  
Arthur was obviously devoured by the uncertainty, or better, the certainty of their foolish plan. He couldn’t care less of Galahad’s pink cheeks or Tristan’s short breath.  
-I need to discuss some strategy with you. Galahad, go to sleep. I’ll need you to be sober tomorrow.-  
-Yes, sir. Goodnight.-  
Galahad stood there awkwardly, then he looked into Tristan’s eyes for just a second and went to his room.

It was late night when Galahad felt his bed shift under someone else’s weight. He knew it was Tristan’s before he even opened his eyes.  
-Where have you been?-  
-I was with Arthur.-  
-And then?-  
-I... I was thinking.-  
-About what?-  
-Nothing important. Go back to sleep. You need to rest.-  
Galahad left him just a few seconds to get comfortable into the bed, before turning to face him and resting his head on his shoulder. Tristan welcomed him with open arms, and pulled him close.  
He wondered if he should just tell Galahad. The secret he’d been holding for so long now would’ve probably soothed him.  
Or it would’ve made him reckless on the battle field.  
He decided he would’ve told him right after the battle. Galahad deserved to know, and maybe, it would’ve helped both of them find out what was going on.  
He had to keep the secret for himself just for another day.

 

It was a bloodbath.  
The air was filled with the metallic smell of blood, but above that there were all sorts of hellish smells. The battlefield sounded, smelled and looked like hell. Galahad found himself asking how they could always thrive in such a dreadful place. He knew he was already absorbing the battle cries and the sound of men in agony, and he knew he would’ve lived those moments again in his nightmares; the _whooosh_ and the silent _thud_ , when the arrow reached its target... _those empty eyes_. But in _that_ moment, he could ask his brain to shut up and just focus on eliminating whoever was in front of him, and staying alive.  
He’d been watching over Tristan, as always. The older warrior had chosen to continue the battle with his sword. The enemies were surrounding him. Galahad shot an arrow and killed a Saxon behind him. Tristan turned to look at him just for a second; he smiled, then he took care of the other Saxon that was trying to kill him.  
Tristan looked powerful in battle. He was calm, and quiet, and lethal. He didn’t need battle cries to terrify the enemy. One precise swing was enough to cut throats or disembowel.  
Galahad heard an arrow being shot somewhere near him. He looked for the Saxon archer and found him soon: he shot an arrow and hit him between the eyes before that man could even try to aim again.  
The young warrior looked for his other companions. Everyone was having a hard time, but they were fighting with all their strength. Galahad kept eliminating targets; his arms were moving on their own, and his eyes knew exactly where to aim. His fingers knew what to do next. His arms were sore and he was short of breath, but the pain made him angrier and thirstier for glory.  
And then, almost all of a sudden, he realised he’d lost track of Tristan.  
He spurred his horse and started looking for him. He couldn’t focus on the battle any more, even though he kept shooting arrows to his enemies. A Saxon hit him in the back. Galahad hadn’t seen it coming. The pain took his breath away, but he was able to hold on to the horse. He quickly regained his balance, took his sword and decapitated that man. Then, with his bow ready, he kept searching for Tristan.  
-Tristan!-  
He was nowhere to be seen. Galahad was started to panic.  
Then he noticed Cedric, who was fighting, and winning, against one of their soldiers. Galahad realized it was him from his shape and from his movements. It was Tristan.  
Galahad spurred the horse again, this time like a mad man, desperately trying to get there before something bad would happen. He had a feeling in his gut. And he’d learned to listen to his instincts.  
He saw Cedric’s sword swinging in Tristan’s direction.  
- _Nooo!_ -  
Galahad shot an arrow and hit Cedric in his arm. It wasn’t enough to kill him, but it was enough to slow him down. He dismounted and started running.  
It looked like hitting Cedric had only made him angrier. He kept fighting Tristan, who was inexplicably slow.  
_He’s hurt. He’s not gonna make it alone._  
- _Tristan!_ \- shouted Galahad, again. This time the older warrior heard him, and Cedric heard him, too. Tristan took advantage of Cedric’s distraction to attack him. The Saxon was able to defend himself, though. Galahad tried to run there as fast as he could, but there were enemies everywhere. He killed, one, two, three Saxons, and the fourth hit him in the head with the side of his sword. For a second, Galahad couldn’t see. He used his pain and anger as fuel, and pushed his sword in the stomach of the enemy. He felt the man’s warm blood on his hands and arms. He pushed the Saxon away and turned to watch Tristan.  
He was on his knees. Cedric was about to kill him.  
Galahad felt his whole body freeze. Then he ran.  
The younger warrior blocked Cedric’s sword before it could hit Tristan. Cedric resisted, and Galahad realized how strong he was. He couldn’t do it alone. That man reminded him of a dragon, those fantastic creatures that some people believed could bring fire, pain and destruction. Cedric certainly looked like one of them.  
Galahad freed himself from that position and destabilized Cedric with a new attack. That gave Tristan the time to get back on his feet. Galahad and Tristan looked at each other in the eye. They were both hurt, in pain, covered in blood, and panting. But it didn’t matter. They were still alive.  
At the same time, they attacked Cedric. The Saxon tried to defend himself, but he had no chance this time. The warriors fought like a pack of wolves: quickly, and brutally coordinated. Finally Cedric had dropped his defence. It looked like Galahad and Tristan were reading each other minds. They moved together: one aimed for the jugular, the other for the stomach.  
Cedric was now laying in a pool of his own blood. He had been defeated. But there was no time to celebrate: the battle was still not over. And so they kept fighting, back to back, as if they were wolves hunting their preys. It was a terrifying dance, and it looked like they were the only ones who could hear the music.  
In the end, when the last enemies had been defeated, and the survivors had surrendered, they were able to catch their breath. Galahad collapsed into Tristan’s arms.  
-We did it, Galahad. We survived.-  
-I thought he was about to kill you.-  
-I thought that, too. But thanks to you, I’m still alive.-  
They stood there for a minute. Galahad rested his head on Tristan’s chest, and the older warrior held him tight. Yes, there were still alive, and their quest had finally come to an end. They were free. Galahad let go of Tristan and took a step back, just to look at his face, and check if he was alright.  
His eyes were lit for the excitement of the victory, but there was probably something else. Galahad realized that there was gratitude in his eyes; there was affection, and there was love. He realized _he_ was the reason why Tristan’s eyes were full of life. And now they were looking at his lips, and back to his eyes. Galahad found himself mirroring that movement.  
They didn’t kiss. Not when everyone was approaching them and congratulating them for killing Cedric. Not while a lot of their soldiers were suffering because of the wounds, and waiting for help. It wasn’t the right moment. So they went back to work and offered help when they could, but they stayed together. Galahad couldn’t even think of leaving Tristan on his own. He had to see where he was and check that he was alright. That’s when he noticed that Tristan was in pain, even though he was trying to hide it. He had a short breath and looked like he was doing all he could to keep standing.  
-What happened to you? Are you hurt?-  
Tristan seemed to realize that Galahad had noticed. There was no point in lying.  
-Cedric- he said. -He hit me.-  
-Where?-  
Tristan removed a part of his armour to show a wound in his abdomen. It was still oozing blood, and the warrior was now clearly in pain.  
-You need help. Sit.-  
-Galahad, I’m fine…-  
-I said, sit. I’m going to get help.-

 

The sun was about to set, when Galahad brought a tray of food in Tristan’s room. The man was laying on his bed: the wound had been treated, the blood had been washed away. He was a bit paler than usual, but apart from that, he was alright. That didn’t mean that he could do whatever he wanted: Tristan tried to stand up, when he saw Galahad and the food, but the other man stopped him right away.  
-Don’t. I guess we can eat in bed, today. The cook made sure to give you the best parts. And Arthur sent some wine. Everyone is eager to show their gratitude.-  
Tristan welcomed Galahad with a kiss on his lips.  
-I’m eager to show _my_ gratitude.-  
-I just did my job.-  
-You killed all those Saxons with your arrows. I saw that. They were all trying to get me. But you were faster. I noticed. I saw that you used the tricks I taught you. Even when you think I don’t, I notice.-  
Galahad ate a piece of bread. He suddenly didn’t know what to say. The gratitude and sweetness in Tristan’s voice were about to make him cry like a baby.  
-Eat something- he said, in the end. He wondered if Tristan had noticed that his voice was shaking, too. -Before it gets cold.-  
They ate in a comfortable silence. It was nice, finally being alone, and being able to catch their breath. Galahad could still smell the blood, even though he was clean, and he was wearing clean clothes, too. He tried not to think about it, and he chose to concentrate on Tristan instead. He poured some wine for him.  
-I hadn’t drunk wine as good as this in a long time- said Tristan.  
-It comes from Rome. Apparently Arthur has kept it hidden all this time. I don’t know how he managed that, with the soldiers.-  
They both laughed. Tristan sighed in pain, though. The wound was still painful. The weight of the risk he’d run that day changed the atmosphere in the room.  
-There is something I want to tell you- said Tristan.  
Galahad’s gaze locked with the older warrior’s. Tristan tried to take a long breath, in spite of the wound.  
-When you dream of the sea... you said I’m there too. Is that correct?-  
Galahad frowned. -Yes, why?-  
-And we’re embracing?-  
Tristan accompanied the question with one of his longing gazes. Galahad felt light-headed.  
-How did you know?-  
-I keep having the same nightmare.-  
The younger warrior put down his cup, lost in thought.  
-I’d kept that detail for myself for so long that… it’s crazy to hear it from you.-  
-What do you think that means?- asked Tristan. Galahad shook his head.  
-I don’t know. I thought it was just… you know, my feelings for you. But you knew. I told you about my nightmares- noticed Galahad. -Why didn’t you tell me?-  
Tristan had to look away.  
-I think it means that we were meant to meet each other, and that maybe we’ll meet again, somewhere, in the future. And I thought that, if I told you about the dream, and what I think it means, with the battle approaching… I thought it would’ve made you reckless. I didn’t want you to risk your life in a desperate attempt to save me, just because of a dream, or because of the vane hope that maybe we’ll meet each other in another life. I didn’t even want to tell you what I feel for you, but I couldn’t resist any more. I couldn’t bear the thought of dying without letting you know. So I settled for a compromise.- He finally looked at Galahad in the eyes. -It looks like you decided to risk your life to save me anyway.-  
Galahad took Tristan’s face in his hands.  
-I would do anything for you. Even if it means that I’m going to end up at the bottom of the sea. I don’t care.-  
-Galahad…-  
-I love you, Tristan. I always have.-  
Tristan looked speechless. He kissed Galahad’s hands.  
-I love you, Galahad.-  
Galahad got close to him and kissed him. Tristan kissed him back, with passion, as if he was trying to make up for lost time. Galahad surely didn’t want to stop him.  
They left the tray on a little table near the bed; those stabs of hunger didn’t want to be cured with food. They needed each other.  
Tristan took off Galahad’s shirt and put his hands on his waist, pulling him closer: Galahad sat on his legs, trapping him with his body. He slowly took off Tristan’s shirt, and payed attention to the wound. The rest of their clothes disappeared soon, too. It was incredible to finally be able to feel each other, bare skin on bare skin. Galahad thought of all the times Tristan had made his eyes burn just with little gestures, or a light touch, or maybe a particular tone of voice. He was able to communicate how much he’d desired him, now. He was able to bite his lips, to run his fingers through his hair, to feel his muscles under his fingers. He was able to kiss his neck and make him moan. Galahad had only kissed one man, in his life, and that was Tristan. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do; he chose to rely on his instincts and on Tristan’s reactions. And so far, he looked in awe.  
Tristan’s touch was delicate, yet he seemed to know what he was doing, and what he wanted. His hands travelled along Galahad’s back, reached his arse and squeezed a bit, then stared playing with his body. Galahad lost his breathe.  
Tristan was trying to be as slow as he could, but it was impossible, now that Galahad was finally so close, so amazingly close. He thought he looked beautiful, with his body forged by battles and hard work, and his soul that was able to know empathy, kindness, courage and the burning fire of war at the same time. He decided that he wanted to see how happy he could make him; he wanted to satisfy him, he wanted to make him scream, and he wanted to see that expression of pure bliss on his face as often as he could. He moved beneath him, even though his wound was limiting his movements. Galahad’s reaction, the way he’d arched his back… Tristan was sure he would’ve never forgotten.  
The younger warrior ran his fingers through Tristan’s hair, again, and rested his hands behind Tristan’s neck. He pushed him down against the headboard.  
-Your wound- he said. He was short of breath. -Stay still.-  
And so he moved, instead. Tristan closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the situation, overwhelmed by Galahad in his entirety, but then he realized he wanted to watch. He had to. He couldn’t bare missing any of his expressions, his lips curved in a smile, and now open in an “o”. His iridescent eyes hidden behind his long eyelashes. When Galahad locked his gaze with Tristan’s, he knew he was too close. So he kissed him, and he kissed him again, and then licked into his lips.  
The climax hit them stronger than they’d expected. It left both of them breathless, and speechless. Galahad was happy to lay on Tristan’s side, after cleaning both of them with a cloth, careful enough not to touch the wound. He covered both of them with a bearskin. They were both shivering. Tristan put his arm beneath Galahad’s neck, and the younger warrior rested his head on his shoulder.  
A comfortable silence fell, again, interrupted by the sound of their lazy kisses. The agony of the battlefield was far. The smell of blood wasn’t so persistent now that Galahad could smell Tristan’s skin.  
It was going to be alright. He couldn’t dare dreaming of a life when the two of them lived in a farm for the rest of their lives, somewhere far away from Arthur and his epic adventures. _Maybe one day_ , Galahad thought. But it was alright. If Arthur wanted to declare war to the rest of the world, as long as Galahad was with Tristan, and as long as he could follow him on the battlefield, look for him in the crowd and protect him, it would’ve been alright.  
It was going to be alright.


End file.
